life is just a phase i'm going through
by sweetie buttons
Summary: Stories about the Goosebumps protagonists that have absolutely nothing to do with the villains. Title is a quote from "The Girl Who Cried Monster". Originally posted on Wattpad.
1. The First Time (Sarah)

****EDIT: replaced "a an advanced reader" with "an advanced reader", put a star next to Andy introducing herself so I could explain it was her in the author's notes, and replaced "comment" with "reviews" in the author's notes. I called them "comments" before because I originally posted this on Wattpad that had comments instead of reviews. My chance of getting any comments on there is slim, to say the least. Especially for a non-existent "fandom" like Goosebumps. Can you believe I once abandoned my account for** ** _seven months_** **, and not** ** _one_** **of my stories got a comment? Sorry, this turned into a bit of a rant, nobody wants to hear me bitch and moan. Anyway, enjoy!**

 *****EDIT: Added an author's note at the start.**

 **A/N: I wrote this because most of the GB fics on here either have nothing to do with Goosebumps or are Slappy x Amy/OC fics or Amanda x Ray/Karen fics (of course, there's nothing wrong with writing those types of fics). There's a reason people only remember the villains, because the heroes are as bland as white bread. But I still think those tall, thin, Caucasian, middle school twelve-year-olds deserve some appreciation. Starting with one of the most hated protagonists, quite unfairly in my opinion.**

 **Book** : The Curse of Camp Cold Lake, with a small cameo from Monster Blood

 **Summary** : Camp Cold Lake wasn't the first time Sarah almost drowned.

The sun beat down on eight-year-old Sarah Maas. Even the huge wide-brimmed hat she wore, comically large for her small head, didn't shade the rest of her body. Her arms and lower body felt like they were being burnt to a crisp. She was reading a book cross-legged on the sand, a frown of concentration etched in her face. She was an advanced reader for her age - at least, that was what the teachers at her school told her. Sand was getting into her dress, but she didn't notice nor care.

She heard a shrill, high-pitched laugh before her book was knocked out of her hands, landing face-first in the sand. She looked up and saw her seven-year-old brother Aaron. He was beaming and dressed in his swimsuit, dripping wet, drops of water falling off him onto the sand.

"Sarah, why don't you take a swim?" he said. "It'll feel great!"

"I'll just stick to my book, thanks," said Sarah, starting to edge towards her book.

"C'mon, Sarah!" pleaded Aaron. "You can't spend all day just reading! We're supposed to be relaxing."

"This is relaxing," Sarah insisted, picking up her book.

"The water's great, I promise," said Aaron. "Once you get in, you won't be able to get out!"

"Well..." Sarah sighed. "Alright." It was almost worth saying that for the huge smile that broke across her little brother's face. "But wait, I didn't pick my swimsuit-"

"Actually, you did," said Aaron. "I saw Mom packing it for you."

Sarah sighed. She should've known. She would've been perfectly content spending all day reading, but her mom always insisted that she "do physical activity". Sarah personally thought that her mom should be glad that she was reading this much at her age.

Sarah put on her swimsuit and slowly waded into the sea. The cold water felt good on her sunburnt legs. She kept walking until she was up to her torso in the cooling water. She had to admit, it was a refreshing change from being burnt to a crisp.

She kept walking until she was up to her neck, and then tilted her hair back. She smiled as she felt her hair fill with water. Her hair always got horribly tangled when it was really sunny, even though it was very thin and fine and scraggly, almost like straw.

"Hi," said a voice.

Sarah looked behind her to see a girl that looked around her age, except that she was much shorter than her (and by now, Sarah was starting to realise that she was taller than most of the girls her age.) The girl had brown hair, almost black, and brown eyes. She was wearing a bright yellow swimsuit that matched Sarah's.

"Uh...hi," said Sarah. She wasn't the type to just go up to somebody and say "hi" to them, especially in the ocean at a beach.

"What's your name?" said the girl.

Sarah told her.

"Sarah," the girl repeated. "That's a nice name. I'd love to have a down-to-earth name like that. It's so much better than my name." She waited for Sarah to ask what it was.

"Andrea," she replied.

"I think that's a pretty name," said Sarah.

"I hate it," said the girl. "It sounds so stuck-up and fancy. When I grow up, I'm thinking of changing my name to Andy. You can call me Andy."

"Uh...okay, Andy," said Sarah.

"Hey, you have the same swimsuit as me!" said Andy.

"Oh...I guess I do," Sarah replied lamely.

"My swimsuit has a tear in the back," Andy rambled. "Mom wants to replace it for me, but I don't want to. I've had this swimsuit since I was little - well, littler. I love coming to this beach, it's so much fun, don't you think? The water's great. I love swimming here. Hey, how old are you?"

Sarah stared at Andy. This girl was talking a mile a minute! She wasn't sure if she liked her.

"I'm eight," said Sarah.

"So am I!" said Andy. "I love coming here." You've said that already, Sarah thought. "But I won't be able to for much longer. Me and my parents are moving to a new place in a few weeks."

"Oh...that's too bad," said Sarah, inwardly scolding herself for such a lame response.

There was a silence as Andy inspected Sarah with an almost amused expression that was starting to make Sarah uncomfortable.

"You don't talk much, do you?" said Andy, grinning for some reason.

Sarah pondered how to answer an observation like that, really wishing that the girl - Andy - would just leave her alone, when she heard a third voice reach the two girls.

"Andrea!"

Andy groaned. "Oh, no - that's my dad! He never lets me swim here for that long. I love to come here, though. Do you-"

"Andrea!"

Andy cupped her hands around her mouth. "Okay!" she called. "I'm coming, Dad!" She started to skip through the water, but stopped to wave at Sarah. "Maybe we can hang out here some other time, Sarah," she said.

"Uh...yeah. Maybe we can," said Sarah, though she inwardly hoped that she'd never see this girl again.

Andy waded out of the water onto the shore. Her dad said something that made her stare at her toes.

Sarah continued to wade around in the water. The feeling of the sunlight beating down on her combined with the coolness of the water was amazing.

Aaron swam towards her, before standing and grinning at her. "Isn't this great?"

"It is kind of fun," Sarah admitted, making ripples of water with her arms.

"What did I tell you?" said Aaron, laughing and throwing some water at her.

Sarah laughed and threw some back, but it narrowly missed.

They had a water fight, with much hair pulling and shoving, until Sarah got tired and floated on the water, gazing up at the sky. Aaron was standing in the shallow end, talking with a group of boys. The sun was beginning to set, casting orange rays on the lake, and there were only two or three kids still splashing and floating on the water.

She kept floating for a while, and then decided to practice her swimming a bit. She had been taking swimming lessons for a while and could hold her breath for a really long time.

She did the freestyle rather weakly, preferring to float and relax than do actual exercise. But eventually, she built up speed and started swimming quicker. She thought she vaguely heard someone calling to her when she reacher her head out of the water for air, but ignored it, too caught up in her swimming.

Eventually, she got tired. She tried to stand up and plant her feet on the sand, but found that she couldn't reach the ground. She thrashed, trying to reach the surface, but only sunk deeper. She forgot about everything shed learned in her swimming lessons as she repeatedly tried to scream for help, but only swallowed water.

She didn't know how long she thrashed there before she lost consciousness, but she did remember opening her mouth to scream before going limp.

She woke up to feel her mom squeezing her in a tight hug...a little too tight.

"Oh, Sarah..." said Mrs. Maas. "I'm so glad..."

"Mom..." Sarah choked. "Too tight..."

"Sorry," said her mom, freeing her from her death grip. Sarah tried to wrap her arms around herself before realising that she was wrapped up in a blanket.

Mrs. Maas squeezed Sarah's hand, then her shoulder, then her arm, as if trying to see that she was real and not a vision in a dream. Then she pulled her into another hug, less tight this time.

"I'm so sorry, Sarah!" Aaron wailed. "It's all my fault. If I hadn't forced her-"

"It's not your fault at all, Aaron," said Mrs. Maas gently. "Did you push her into the water?"

"Did you forbid her from coming to the surface?"

"No..."

"Then it's not your fault," said Mrs. Maas firmly. She rubbed Sarah's back before freeing her from her hug again and placing a hot bowl of potato leek soup on her lap. Sarah gulped a spoonful of it before it burned her tongue, causing her to spit it back into the bowl and mix it with her spoon to cool it down.

"I don't like swimming," Sarah shuddered. But she said it so quietly that nobody heard her except for Aaron.

Aaron squeezed her hand comfortingly. "It was just one time, Sarah," he said kindly. "Swimming isn't all that bad. If you just gave it another chance, I'm sure you would-"

"NO!" Sarah cried. "I'm never going swimming again. Ever!"

"Okay, okay," said Aaron, sensing a breakdown coming.

"And I'm never going near water again," Sarah declared.

"Not even to drink?" Aaron teased.

Sarah glared at him.

"Sorry," he said quickly. "But you have to admit, you're being ridiculous. There's no way you'll never go in the water again. It's just stupid to say that."

"Aaron!" said Mrs. Maas sharply. "Don't be so rude to your sister. She's just had a surprising experience."

"Aaron is right, grasshopper," said Mr. Maas. Sometimes he called her Grasshopper because she was so tall and thin. She hated it, but right now she was too horrified by her drowning adventure to correct him. "You're going to have to get over your fear eventually. You can't let one experience-"

"You can save the lecture for later," snapped Mrs. Maas. "Can't you see what Sarah's just been through?"

Mr. Maas opened his mouth to argue, but, eventually deciding that agreeing with his wife would be easier than getting into an argument with her, resolved to safely say "Sorry, Sarah."

Sarah took another slurp of the potato soup, wincing as it burned her tongue just a bit, but swallowing it nonetheless. "I'm never going swimming again," she declared. "Never."

"Whatever you say, sweetie," said Mr. Maas.

Four years later...

Sarah had mostly gotten over her fear of water. She could attend swim lessons fine, albeit very reluctantly, but refused to swim more than absolutely necessary. It had become less of a fear and more of a strong dislike, similar to doing homework and chores.

So imagine her disbelief when she found out that her mom and dad had signed her up to go to a water sports camp.

"Dad - how could you?" she wailed. "You know I feel about water!"

"I thought you'd gotten over that silly fear by now," her dad said.

"Yeah, my fear - not my dislike," said Sarah. "Those are two different things, you know."

"Since when did you become so philosophical?" said Mr. Maas in an amused voice.

"Whatever," huffed Sarah. "The point is, I can't go!"

"Well, maybe this camp will teach you to get over your fear."

"Dislike," Sarah corrected. "I'm not afraid of swimming or anything - I just don't like it."

"Well, maybe it'll teach you to get over your dislike," said Mr. Maas. "Swimming is one of the valuable assets in life-"

"Spare me the lecture, Dad," Sarah grumbled, rolling her eyes. "I know how to swim, and I take swim lessons. Isn't that enough? If I'm in a life or death situation, I can swim to save myself. I just don't want to swim recreationally. What's so bad about that?"

"Okay...well, maybe this camp will teach you to socialise more," said Mr. Maas. "You know, with your fellow campers."

"Yeah," said Sarah. "Or maybe it'll teach me to make a total fool of myself and make everyone at camp hate me."

The kids at her school already stared at her and whispered about her just because she was tall. She hadn't made many friends there, because she was a little shy and tended to say the worst things at the worst times. Aaron, on the other hand, was Mr. Popular. More than sometimes, Sarah felt a little jealous of him.

"Stop it, Sarah," said Mr. Maas. "Why do you always have to imagine the worst? Why do you always have to be so negative? Can't you ever be positive like your brother?"

He just had to add that last part about Aaron, didn't he?

"I am!" said Sarah. "I'm _positive_ that this is going to be awful."

"Well, there's nothing you can do about it now," said Mrs. Maas, I'm his "no buts" voice. "I've already signed you up."

Sarah sighed, but knew she couldn't argue with him.

Sarah's dad bent down suddenly and gave her a very long and tight hug. "It's going to be okay, grasshopper. You're going to have a good time at Camp Cold Lake. I know it."

"Don't call me grasshopper," Sarah grumbled, but the hug did made her feel better. Now, if only she could believe him...

 **Yes, that is Andy from "Monster Blood". I have no idea how this is in any way GB-related. If you took out that "four years later part", this could've been a completely separate short story. But I'm currently obsessed with Goosebumps, so I need to project it onto everything. Also because there needs to be more Camp Cold Lake fics on here that aren't Sarah-bashing.**

 **Did I accurately portray seven and eight-year-olds, or did I make them too advanced? Let me know, along with your opinion on The Curse of Camp Cold Lake and anything else you'd like to share in the reviews!**


	2. An Unpublished Story (Ricky)

****EDIT: Added Ricky's mom asking him how school was so him saying doesn't come out of nowhere and replaced "comments" with reviews".**

 **Book** : Calling All Creeps!

 **Summary** : Ricky's first story for the newspaper is an unpublished one.

 **Based on this passage:**

 **Do you know the first story she asked me to write? She asked me to count the dirt patches in the playground and write about why grass didn't grow there.**

 **I knew she was just trying to get me out of the office. But I wrote the story anyway. It's hard to write a good story about dirt patches. But I did a really good job. My story was five pages long!**

 **She never printed it in the paper.**

 **When I asked her why, she said, "Who cares about dirt patches?"**

"Dirt patches?"

Tasha McClain typed furiously in the keyboard in front of her, immersed in her computer, a frown etched on her face.

"Dirt patches?"

A bit of her curly red hair fell in front of her face. She seethed slightly as she pulled it back in place.

"Dirt-"

"Ricky, are you going to do the story or not?" Tasha snapped. She slowed her typing, but didn't look up from the computer.

"Why do you want me to do a story about something as boring as dirt patches?" I cried.

"If you don't want to do it, that's fine," said Tasha, a smug tone creeping into her voice. "You don't have to join the writing team if you don't want-"

I knew what she was trying to do. She was trying to get rid of me.

She had just assigned me to write a story about the dirt patches on the playground and why grass didn't grow there. I had joined the school writing team a few days ago. I needed the activity points so I could graduate from sixth grade. But the head of the team, Tasha, seemed to have something against me.

Actually, the whole _school_ seemed to have something against me. I'm not sure why.

I mean, look at me. I'm normal. Normal-looking. A normal student. Normal person. Nothing to run home about, but nothing to revile at in disgust either. If you squinted a little, you'd even almost call me _cute_ , right?

Okay, let's not get sickening.*

"No. I'll do it," I interrupted. "When is it due?"

Tasha finally looked up, slight surprise in her eyes. "Next Monday," she said flippantly.

Then she busied herself with typing again.

Very polite.**

"I guess I'll leave now?"

More typing.

I left.

Next Monday...

I was not having a good day. At all.

First Jared, Brenda, David and Wart through milk cartons and pudding cups at me in lunch. Two weeks at this school, and I still haven't learned to dodge. Then Brenda tripped me over and the entire lunchroom laughed at me. She probably said something about me being a rat, but I wasn't listening.

Then, in class, David tripped me. And the entire class laughed at me, even the teacher.***

So all in all, an average day.

Thrills and chills, huh?****

I had completed my report on dirt patches that was due today. It was five pages long. I had strained to include every possible detail. I mean, every possible detail. I'm not so sadistic as to bore you with every step of my thrilling journalism, though.*****

But the story had never made it into the newspaper. I wasn't really surprised, but I asked her why anyway.

She practically sneered at me. "Who cares about dirt patches?" she said.

"But-" I sighed. "You asked me to write that story. You-"

Tasha rolled her eyes. "Boo hoo," she said. She snickered. "Why don't you just leave the writing team, if it bothers you that much?"

Again, I knew what she was trying to do.

"Leave?" I said, in what I hoped was a confident voice. "Who says anything about leaving?" The truth was, I wanted to leave. But I needed those activity points.

Tasha snickered again. "Whatever you say, Sicky Ricky."

Then she turned around as if I had never existed.

What's her problem? I thought.

As I was walking home from school, my four enemies - Jared, Brenda, David and Wart - spied on me and jumped out at me. They roughed me up a little. You know. A bruise or two. Nothing too bad.******

When I reached home, it had started to rain. My mom was hunched over the cutting board on the kitchen table in an apron, slicing turnips while a pot radiating with steam sat next to the board.******* That surprised me. Although Mom can cook, she never does, because most of the time she's too busy, so her and Dad usually just grab takeout from a restaurant.********

That's why I don't tell her about my school problems. No need to worry her when she's already busy, right?

She looked up at me, smiling. Her soft brown hair was in a braid over her shoulder that was almost completely loose from the hairband. Her forehead was all sweaty. "Hi, Ricky. How was school?"

 _It was awful. I hate it here. The kids do nothing but make fun of me. I don't want to go back. I can't go back. Please don't make me, Mom!_

"It was okay," I said. "Kind of boring."*********

 ***Quote stolen from Planet of the Lawn Gnomes. (You'd almost call me cute - let's not get sickening.)**

 **** and *****: See how Ricky's sort of developed snark as a coping mechanism?**

 *****: Fulfilled the "entire class laughs at the protagonist, even the teacher" quota.**

 ******: Fulfilled the "thrills and chills" quota. Also, again, Ricky, snark, coping mechanism.**

 ********: I don't think Ricky's bullies beat him up that much - or at least, not too badly. The most they gave him was a bruise or two (unlike Gary and Evan's bullies from Why I'm Afraid of Bees and the Monster Blood series).**

 ********* and ********: Woah, those were two complex sentences for a Goosebumps book! I'll have to use a lot of fragmented sentences and one-sentence paragraphs to make up for that.**

 ***********Quote stolen from Monster Blood III.**

 **Pretty boring story, I know.**

 **Did I do a good enough job of replicating Stine's writing style, or did I not include enough fragmented sentences and descriptions of people's appearance and clothing? Let me know, along with your opinion on Calling All Creeps! and anything else you would like to share in the reviews!**


	3. Nightmares (Evan)

****EDIT: Added a little to the AN.**

 *****EDIT: Fixed the typo "I've always odd" with "I've always found it odd" in the AN and added "(Evan's dad)" after "mentioned something about him".**

 ******EDIT: Added a sentence after Evan saying his mom always left him with his aunt and cousin. Also, I literally JUST realised you don't have to copy and paste a chapter onto Word, add your edit, and then replace it with the previous chapter, you can edit them on the iPad.**

 *******EDIT: Had Evan's parents' names be mentioned.**

 **Book** : the Monster Blood series, but especially Monster Blood II

 **Summary** : Evan goes to his parents after another nightmare. Basically just pointless fluff. Takes place a little after Monster Blood II.

Evan Ross woke up on the floor of his bedroom, tangled up in blankets, with panic and fear flooding through him. He sat up, breathing hard. Moonlight shone from the window right on his blanket. His heart was racing, he was trembling, and he suddenly realised that he was icy cold. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to regain control of his breathing.

Once he was calm, he thought about what had just happened. He had had a nightmare about the monster blood. He couldn't remember exactly what happened in it - by now, all his dreams about the stuff were starting to feel the same - but he did remember that it had something to do with his most recent encounter with the green blob, when his friend Andy fed it to Cuddles the hamster.

Sometimes he wondered why he was friends with her.

He shakily got up and wandered into the kitchen, not bothering to turn on the light. He stumbled through the darkness of the kitchen, grabbing one of the glasses next to the kitchen sink. Just as his hand found the tap, he heard a scuttling noise and his heart stopped.

He looked down and saw a dark figure hurrying out from under a corner of the cupboard.

Was it a mouse? A cockroach? Did it matter?

Quit being so paranoid, Evan, he scolded himself. It was probably just some tiny animal.

He filled his glass with water and returned to his room, walking very slowly. He sat down shakily on his bed and took tentative sips of the water. An owl howled and he jumped.

Why was he being so nervous and paranoid?

He quickly gulped down the rest of his water, finding bits of orange juice pulp at the bottom of the glass. Suddenly, he got that scared, panicked feeling again - not as prominent as before, just a lingering feeling, like an annoying itch you couldn't scratch off. He felt nervous and...lonely. He felt a sudden urge to go into his parents' room.

Quit being such a baby, he told himself. It was just a nightmare. You've gotten plenty of them before.

But that scared, panicked feeling persisted. He sighed. Oh, what the heck. He stumbled through the house to his parents' room, turning the doorknob after a long pause.

His parents were sleeping. He shook his mother to wake her up, since she was often a lighter sleeper than her father. Sure enough, she woke up almost immediately.

"Mom?"

Mrs. Ross groaned. She covered her face with her elbow.

"Mom."

She groaned again. She turned over.

Evan shook her. "Mom!"

She groaned yet again, rubbed her eyes, and sat up. It took a while before she noticed Evan. "Evan - what are you _doing_?"

Evan felt like turning around and leaving the room at that moment. But he decided not to. "I had a bad dream," he said quietly.

Mrs. Ross yawned, pulling a strand of straight blonde hair behind her ear. "Evan, please. You're twelve-"

Evan was about to return to his room right then and there. But yet...

"Please, Mom?" he begged. "Can I just stay here for a couple of minutes? Just a couple of minutes? That's alł. I swear. And then I promise I'll go back to my room. I just want to...be with you for a while." He winced. That sounded so babyish.

"Oh, alright," said Mrs. Ross.

"Thanks, Mom," said Evan, but it came out in a whisper. He felt a sudden urge to hug her, but he knew that would make her think she was even more of a baby.

He pulled himself up onto his parents' bed and sat cross-legged on it. His mom put her legs over the side of the bed, her feet on the floor. Evan suddenly felt another urge to lean into her side and squeeze her hand.

Whoops, he was doing it.

Mrs. Ross didn't squeeze back, but she didn't pull away either.

There was a silence, the clock ticking on the wall and moonlight streaming in from the window onto the bed, the only light in the darkness of the little room. An owl hooted, again.

"I can't believe Mr. Murphy gave me Cuddles," Evan muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "As a 'present'. Can you believe it?"

Evan and his mom had tried to return Cuddles to the school, but they didn't want him. So they gave him up to the local shelter for adoption.*

Evan pitied the person who had to take care of him.

Evan had wanted to to abandon him on the streets, but his mom said that wasn't ethical. Evan refrained from asking her where sending somebody a demon hamster fell on the etiquette meter.

"Evan, he was just trying to send you a gift," said Mrs. Ross. "Sure, it was one you didn't want, but-"

"Yeah, right," Evan grumbled, his voice still very low. "He-" He started to say more, but cut himself off.

Mrs. Ross reached out her hand and suddenly ruffled Evan's hair.

"Don't do that," Evan muttered, but he couldn't muster much heat behind his words.

For some reason, that made her smile. A very weak smile, but a smile nonetheless. She ruffled his hair again. Evan grumbled something, but nestled closer into her side, like he did so much when he was younger.

They barely even talked anymore. She was always so busy, going away on "business" and leaving Evan with his aunt Dee and his bratty cousin Kermit.** She thought Evan was a troublemaker and her son was a perfect angel who could do no wrong.

Evan heard shuffling, and realised it was the blanket that was his dad. He rolled over once, twice, before slowly waking up.

It took him a while before he noticed Evan curled up beside his mother. "What's going on here?"

"Nothing, Dad," Evan said quickly.

"He had a nightmare, Paul***," said Mrs. Ross. Was that a knowing look she shot at his father?

"Mom," Evan whined.

Mr. Ross started to say something, but stopped. "Wait a sec, Evan, Lauren," he said. "I have to go to the bathroom. I'll be back." Then he left the room, returning in a very short amount of time.

"Nightmares, huh?" he said to Evan. "I know a thing or two about nightmares. I had them at your age."

"Really?" said Evan, surprised.

"Yes," said Mr. Ross. "And let me tell you...it feels better if you talk to somebody about it."

"I don't _want_ to talk!" Evan whined, a little loudly.

He was expecting his dad to exist, but he just said, "okay." There was a silence. Then Mr. Ross said "Well...maybe I could tell you about the nightmares I had." He shifted around a little on the mattress. "Did you know, Evan, that my parents died when I was just a little younger than you?" Evan nodded, but he still looked a little shocked. He knew, but his dad never talked about them. Not that he could blame them. "I had to stay with your aunt Kathryn. She wasn't deaf back then, but still a little weird. I had nightmares about my parents dying...all the time And you know what?" There was a silence. "I never went to her when I had them. Not once."

"I-" Evan didn't know what to say in response to that. Actually, he did. _Then how do you know it'll help to talk to someone?_

But he didn't say that.

"I...I was just confused," Mr. Ross continued. "Confused and scared. I got into a lot of fights. Came home bloody and bruised. Your aunt never cared. So why would she care about a bad dream?" Evan felt a sudden jolt of something. Not quite déjà vu, but something very similar to that.

"Do you think they'll ever stop?" Evan whispered.

"I know they will," said Mr. Ross.

"When did they stop for you?"

"I...I don't know," said Mr. Ross. "It was years ago, Evan. I just...I don't know. I know that they did stop, though."

Evan yawned. He suddenly felt his eyelids growing heavy, even though a few minutes ago he felt as if he could stay awake for an entire week. He let his eyes close and his head sag on his mother's chest. He expected her to protest and remind him that he had to go back to his room in a few minutes, but she just played with his hair like she did when he was little, and he didn't protest either.

He felt his mom rubbing his back for a moment before wrapping her arm around him. Then he felt another pair wrapping around him as well, and that scared, panicked feeling disappear as he fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

 ***I know that the book ended with Cuddles eating the monster blood, but Monster Blood III didn't acknowledge that, so why should I?**

 ****Yes, I know this fic is supposed to take place before Monster Blood III, but let's just assume that Evan had to stay with his aunt and cousin a lot before visiting Aunt Kathryn.**

 *****Kathryn calls Evan's dad "Paul" in the TV episode, and Evan's mom "Lauren".**

 **Tooth rotting fluff, I know. Look, I just really, really want Evan to be happy, okay? Even though half of the Goosebumps "fandom" hates him, along with Sarah. I've always found it odd odd that everyone almost blames him for bringing back the monster blood and wanting to use it, even though it's actually Andy who does that, but everyone worships her for some reason.**

 **I didn't mean to write that part with his dad, but it just happened, you know? I think Kathryn mentioned something about him (Evan's dad) always getting into fights when she saw Evan's bruises after getting beaten up by the Beymer twins, and Evan's mom said that she "did a good job taking care of him" when discussing with Evan's dad about whether to leave Evan with her.**


	4. Tennis Lessons (Jack)

****EDIT: Replaced two instances of "hair and" with "hairband", pluralised (it's a word. Deal with it) "heart" in the phrase "pink lace heart", and replaced "talking" with "taking" in the summary.**

 **Book** : How I Learned to Fly

 **Summary** : Mia and Jack take tennis lessons. Based on that passage near the end of the book where Jack offhandedly mentions that him and Mia were taking tennis lessons next week.

Mia and I were walking home from a vigorous tennis lesson. Well, "vigorous" for her. I just spent most of it sitting in a corner of the tennis field, hoping the coach wouldn't call for me.

It was like the Purple Rose concert we went to last week. She spent most of I think shrieking at the top of her lungs, while I spent most of it covering my ears.

But I don't mind. I just like being with Mia.

She was still wearing her tennis outfit. She started to tie a hairband with pink lace hearts into her hair. "I really had fun today, Jack."

"So did I," I lied.

Mia laughed. "So that's why you spent the entirety of the lesson cowering in the corner?"

"I wasn't _cowering_!" I said. "Tennis just isn't really my thing, that's all."

Mia laughed again, but didn't say anything.

We walked in silence. The sun started to make my hair tangle. I quickened my pace.

"Maybe we could so something next Monday?" I suggested.

"Oh, no," said Mia. "My cousin's birthday is then. Sorry."

"Oh. Okay." I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice.

"We could do something tomorrow," Mia suggested. "Get ice cream at the Dairy Freeze.* You know. Just hang out."

"For sure," I agreed.

Mia smiled at me. She really did look cute. Her hair was all sweaty, already starting to fall out of the heart hairband. Her cheeks were all pink and flushed. Her green eyes seemed to sparkle...

...and suddenly I realised our faces were very close together.

I didn't know what happened next. One minute we were walking, and the next minute we were...kissing? I think she was the one who kissed me, but I happily reciprocated.

When we finally pulled away, I didn't know what to say. "So...do you like me?" I blurted out. I inwardly scolded myself for asking such a lame question.

Mia practically rolled her eyes. "Jaack," she said, "we just spent five minutes making out. What do you think?"

"Well, I didn't want to assume-!"

"Do I need to kiss you again?"

I smirked. "Well, I wouldn't object-"

Suddenly, Mia leaned in and gave me a very quick, very light kiss on the lips. "Does that answer your question?"

"If you did that a couple dozen more times, it might," I teased.

Mia rolled her eyes.

"So, are we still getting ice cream tomorrow?" I said.

"It's a date," Mia said.

 ***Yes, that is the Dairy Freeze from Say Cheese and Die! I never miss a chance to connect the books together.**

 **Here, have a bit of Jamia (yes, it's a ship name now. Deal with it). Jamia is cute, but I prefer Evandy. Mia seemed kind of bland in her book, so I tried to give her a bit more spunk.**


	5. Sleepover (Carly Beth)

****EDIT: Unbolded the parts after "Book:" and "Summary:"**

 **Book:** The Haunted Mask

 **Summary:** Carly Beth and Sabrina have a sleepover. Slight ship.

They were fourteen, and they were having a sleepover.

The girls were convinced that they would stay up all night, goring on s'mores and chips to their heart's content, but they had started to feel full after the third s'more and fifth packet of chips and tired after the sixth pillow fight and second movie.

When they went to sleep in their respective beds, a very quiet, almost silent "goodnight" shared between them, it wasn't entirely a surprise when Carly Beth woke up, sweating and shaken, from a nightmare. The nightmares had decreased a little, but they still occurred. She felt like a coward every time she had them. She had learned to accept herself, learned that bravery wasn't fearlessness, but she still had moments where she forgot.

Her first instinct was to go to her mother. She could imagine it perfectly. Mom would wrap her arms around her and whisper comforting words, as she had done so many times after various other nightmares Carly Beth had had, and Carly Beth would bury her face into her shoulder, breathing in her strawberry-scented hair.

But...she didn't want to disturb her. She was very stressed at the moment and had gone to bed after a bad day. At least, that's what Carly Beth had inferred. She had returned from her art class looking annoyed and tired, hugging her daughter a little weakly and barely eating any dinner before going straight to bed.

Carly Beth got up from her bed as quietly as she could, not wanting to wake her sleeping friend, and stumbled through the darkness of the house to the bathroom. She returned to her room after filling a glass with water, sipping a bit before accidentally dropping it on the floor with a loud crash.

Okay. Maybe she did it _slightly_ on purpose. Slightly.

It woke up Sabrina - Carly Beth didn't know whether to be glad or annoyed that she was such a light sleeper. Sabrina looked up sleepily at her friend, and Carly Beth felt a pang of guilt.

She didn't have to say anything for Sabrina to know what had happened.

"I'm sorry." The words tumbled out like a first instinct.

"Don't be."

Sabrina stood up, giving her friend a hug. Carly Beth was seconds away from apologising for waking her up, but Sabrina seemed to predict what she was going to say.

"None of that." She reached out and gently tucked a lock of brown hair behind Carly Beth's ear before planting a kiss on the cheek.

Carly Beth smiled at Sabrina, a silent thanks hanging in the air before she crept back into her bed.

Carly Beth went to sleep with a smile on her face, confident that she would not have trouble sleeping for the rest of the night. And she didn't.

 **Really affectionate gal pals or girlfriends? You decide.**


	6. I'm Telling Mom (Tim)

****EDIT: Changed "the Haunted" to "we" in the phrase "because they were mad that we ran out of ice cream" (have no idea how that typo happened), added "forcing a smile and trying not to clutch my stomach", changed "your" to "you" in the same sentence, and clarified the line in the book this chapter is based on.**

 **Book** : Bad Hare Day

 **Summary** : Ginny karate chops the fridge and Tim is left with a dilemma.

 **This chapter is based on a line in Bad Hare Day where Tim threatens to tell their mom about the time Ginny karate chopped the fridge and left a dent because she was mad that they were out of ice cream.**

"You are so dead."

Those were four words I never thought I'd say to my little sister. They were four words my sister had said to me, countless times, but I never thought I'd ever be the one to say them. And I admit, it felt so good to say them. I was starting to understand why Ginny loved that phrase so much.

Ginny gave a fierce glare with those innocent blue eyes of hers (Ha. Innocent. _Innocent_ is Mom's favorite word to describe Ginny. She's ten, an "innocent" age. She has _innocent_ eyes and an _innocent_ smile. If she's the epitome of "innocent", I'd hate to see how other ten-year-olds are like).* Usually the glare would scare me. Not today.

I said the three other words I thought I'd never say to my sister, that she always said to me.

"I'm telling Mom."

It felt just as good as I thought. It felt like years of putting up with her were worth it, just for this one sweet moment.

"You don't want to do that."

"Why not?"

"Because of this."

Then she karate chopped me in the stomach.

It hurt, a lot.

"Girls needed to defend themselves", they say. If you call kicking me for the tiniest of things, and sometimes for no reason, "defending herself". She might get in trouble for karate chopping the fridge, but never for karate chopping me.

"Gin-Gin," I said sweetly, forcing a smile and trying not to clutch my stomach while pulling out the nickname Dad used to call her that she despised, "do you _really_ think this is the best way to earn my silence?"

Ginny's perfectly rosy cheeks went red for a moment. "Don't tell her, Tim. You can't."

"Well, even if I don't, she'll find out eventually," I said. Which was true. There was nothing that happened in this house that Mom didn't know about. _Nothing_.

Then, I had a thought. How much more brilliant, how much more sweet, would it be for me to use this as blackmail? Whenever she karate chops me, whenever she interrupts one of my magic tricks, I'll just remind who put that dent in the fridge because they were angry that we ran out of ice cream.

"Fine, I won't tell her," I said. "That dent in the fridge was never there, as far as I'm concerned." She smiled her "innocent" smile, pleased at yet another victory over me. Then I added, " _Unless_ you give me a reason to tell."

She went red for a moment, and I was worried she was going to karate chop me again. But she just glared at me, again, and said "fine."

I can safely say, with no hyperbole, that that moment was one of the best in my life.

 ***Writing "innocent" so many times made me forget what it meant.**


	7. Sister Time (Beth)

**Book** : Horrors of the Black Ring

 **Summary** : Beth tries to make up for the horrible things she did to her sister while possessed by the ring and not to lose her sanity while helping her play with her Barbies.

"Beth, can I ask you something?"

I looked at my sister. She was holding one of her Barbie dolls, cautiously, tentatively, as if she was afraid the tiniest movement would make it disintegrate into ashes.

I thought I had done a pretty good job gluing the arms and legs back on. Mom had tried to fix the dolls, but the glue wasn't strong enough and the limbs kept falling back off. So I used some of the money I made from the carnival to buy this really strong, special type of glue that managed to keep the limbs in place. It was so strong that I almost glued my fingers to the dolls several times while trying to fix them. I had done a pretty good job gluing the arms and legs back on, but Amanda was still extra careful when handling them.

It was the least I could do, after I ruined them.

I still felt guilt gnawing in the gut of my stomach every time I thought about the horrible things I had done while I was possessed. I knew it wasn't my fault - even putting on the ring in the first place wasn't entirely voluntary, as if something was drawing me toward it, urging me to slip it on - but I still felt responsible, somehow.

"Sure. What?" I asked.

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Huh?" I knew what she was talking about. Ever since that black ring disaster, I had taken pains to be extra nice to her. I had taken her to a fair that was going on in town that she wanted to attend and even went on the baby rides with her, helped her with her homework (I felt obligated to after tearing it up), and shared all my toys with her. And now, I was doing the task I dreaded most - sorting her Barbie dolls from least pretty to most pretty. The glue was really good. They looked exactly the same as they did before I mangled them.

I shrugged. "I guess I just feel kind of bad. You know. When I couldn't spend much time with you because I was so busy with the carnival." Well, that wasn't a lie.

Amanda scrunched up her eyebrows. "But you're never this nice to me," she insisted. "You've never helped me with my homework or played with Barbies with me."

I felt another flash of guilt, but quickly realized Amanda was just trying to guilt trip me. "Well, it's not like you're too nice to me either," I retorted. "Remember when I promised I'd spend more time with you as soon as the carnival was over, and you put that cow eyeball in my bed?"

"Well, you're the one who destroyed all my Barbies," she retorted. "And replaced my shampoo with corn oil. And tore up my homework. And put slugs in-"

"For the last time, that wasn't me!" I interrupted. Again, I felt guilty for lying to her. But what was I supposed to do? Tell the truth? Yeah, sure. Like she'd really believe me if I told her a black ring possessed me to do evil things.

I had told Mom and Amanda that I had managed to get the ring off, and then thrown it out. "I... I guess it was just kind of creepy," I had said. "It looked like there was some kind of face in there. It was freaking me out. Plus, it was way too tight on my finger. I was sick of wearing it."

Amanda sneered. "Then who was it? The tooth fairy?"

I suppressed a smile. Amanda had stopped believing in stuff like Santa and the tooth fairy just one year ago, and once she discovered she wasn't actually real, she was only momentarily upset before haughtily declaring that she was a big girl now and too mature to believe in such childish things. Now she constantly mocked the idea of them existing.

"Anyway, I repaired your Barbies, remember?" I reminded. "It took a really long time for me to do it, too."

"It's the least you could do, after you destroyed them," she shot back.

"I _told_ you-" I looked down guiltily. I decided not to finish the lie.

Amanda glared at me, then returned her attention to her Barbies. "Which one do you think is prettier, Doctor Barbie or Rollerblade Barbie?"

I rolled my eyes. I never understood why Amanda could spend hours with her Barbie dolls, trying to decide which ones were prettier than others. They all looked the same to me - blonde and plastic. "What's the difference, really?" I voiced these thoughts. "They all look the same to me."

Amanda sneered at me again. "You'd think that, _Beth Breath_."

I scowled. It was such a childish nickname, but I was still annoyed by it. I was about to retort by calling her Amanda Panda (I know, I know, equally childish), but then remembered my vow to be nice to her. I took a deep breath. This was going to be hard.

"Anyway," Amanda continued, "I think Rollerblade Barbie might be just a little bit prettier..."

 **Disregarding the twist ending of Amanda also acquiring a black ring.**


	8. Homesick (Kelli)

**Book** : Here Comes the Shaggedy

 **Summary** : Kelli is feeling homesick, homesick enough not to tease her little brother, and finds he shares that feeling.

 **Okay, I'm definitely cheating here since I published this in another fic, but this was my favorite story in that one.**

Kelli Andersen was half-woken by an ear-piercing scream. As she was only half awake, the scream seemed like an echo, so far away. She groaned and turned around, but the scream persisted. She knew she ought to check up on it, but at the moment she was really really tried and really wished the annoying scream would just stop...

Immediately after that thought, it did stop. She let out a sigh of relief, snuggling closer into her pillow.

...And not a minute after, she was rudely woken - again - by a door opening, a scuffling, a pair of hands shaking her.

She groaned, turning, but the shaking persisted. She stumbled out of sleep and turned angrily to confront the person who dared interrupt her blissful slumber-

It was her brother, Shawn.

Of course. She should have known.

"What are _you_ doing here?" she grumbled.

"Nothing," said Shawn quickly, hurrying off the bed. "Nothing. I'll just go back to sleep now-"

"Nothing?" Kelli demanded shrilly. "You woke me up at three am for _nothing_?"

"It's four am."

"Whatever!" Kelli snapped. "What are you doing here?"

"I told you, it's nothing," insisted Shawn. "Forget it. Just go back to bed."

"Wait," Kelli called as Shawn started to leave. "Shawn...did you have a bad dream?" She almost kicked herself. One minute she was fighting tooth and nail to get back to sleep, and the next she was asking her waker about his problems?

"What-no!" denied Shawn. "I just went to get a glass of water, that's all."

Kelli was about to roll her eyes, pretend to believe his lame excuse, call him a wimp, and then descend back into dreamland, but something stopped her. It was a tug of...loneliness? And unease? Loneliness and unease from what? Being in this creaky cottage in this big swamp, away from the comforting noise and buzz of New York? Her friend never answering her texts, as if she had forgotten all about her? Having that humiliating picture of her be on the front page of the town newspaper and probably turning her into the town laughingstock? (She dreaded waking up tomorrow and confirming if that was the case.) Those creepy twin boys pulling pranks on her and her brother (and once pushing them into the river, leading to that embarrassing picture) and spreading rumours about a monster that resided in the swamp?

It occurred to her that Shawn might be feeling the same unease and loneliness. It then occurred to her that he might have had that nightmare due to all the scary movies she'd forced him to watch, and that he might be so hesitant to admit that he had had a nightmare because of all the times she'd teased him. These realizations brought her no guilt.

Well. Maybe a smidgeon. A tiny smidgeon.

Kelli couldn't believe what she was about to say. "C'mere."

"What?" Shawn gaped.

"Come here," she repeated. "Onto my bed. To say...whatever you wanted to say when you woke me up." Maybe she was just lonely and desperate. Maybe she just wanted to know she wasn't alone in being scared and lonely.

Either way, she expected Shawn to protest, but he immediately jumped onto her bed. "Oww," Kelli moaned. "You're elbowing my stomach."

"Sorry." Shawn switched on the nightlight.

She waited a few minutes for Shawn to speak, but when he didn't, she decided to. "I hate it here," she whispered. "I wish I was back home in New York."

Shawn rolled his eyes. "What else is new? You've been whining about that since we go to here!"

"Well, so have you!" Kelli retorted. She cringed as she decided to say something incredibly babyish and wimpy. But, oh, what the heck. She had downright invited Shawn to crawl onto her bed after a nightmare like they were eight and seven again, so she already wasn't in her right state of mind. And Shawn would probably forget by morning, anyway. "I...I'm scared, Shawn," she sputtered.

She expected Shawn to start gloating. But instead he said, in a small voice, "so am I."

"Can you believe that I actually miss our apartment back in New York?" said Kelli. "That dirty, cramped apartment with our tiny little flat, with cars roaring outside and babies wailing every two seconds?"

Shawn snorted. "Remember that lady who lived right next door to us who had that baby who seemed to be permanently crying?"

"Are you sure that baby wasn't you?" Kelli teased.

"Shuddup," Shawn grumbled.

There was a silence.

"I can't believe what those creep twins did to us," Kelli grumbled. "Pushing us into the lake like that...what did I ever do to them?"

"Well, you did construct that fake prank, causing Dad to come yell at them for something they didn't do-"

"Okay, okay," said Kelli. "I get it. I was selfish and stupid. But they didn't have to push me into the lake!" She groaned. "And now I'm totally humiliated. I'll be the town laughingstock. My life is ruined. I-"

"Geez, cut it out with the melodrama, Kelli," interrupted Shawn. "It's just a random photo, not the end of the world."

Kelli glared at him.

"I mean...maybe it won't be so bad?" Shawn offered.

"Not helping," Kelli sighed.

There was an almost silence before Shawn shrieked so loudly Kelli's eardums felt like they were going to burst.

"What is it now, Shawn?" said Kelli, sighing yet again.

"A-a spider!" Shawn shrieked, pointing.

Kelli followed his gaze. Squinting, she could just barely make out a spider, just barely visible in the dim glow of the nightlight, no bigger than her big toe.

Kelli sighed - again. "Shawn, for the love of-"

"Kelli, just get rid of it?" Shawn pleaded. "Please?"

Kelli raised her eyes to heaven. Was she really eight years old again? Next he'd be asking her to get him a glass of water.

"...okay," Kelli said after several long moments of Shawn nervously staring at the other end of the room. She obliged and when she entered the room again, it was spider free.

"Thanks, Kells!" Shawn chirped. "You're the best."

"Don't call me Kells," Kelli grumbled, sliding into bed next to him. She smirked. "You really are a wimp."

"Shut up."

There was a pause. Then:

"Can you get me a glass of water?"

Okay, _that_ was overboard.

"Get it yourself," Kelli snapped. "You're not a baby."

Shawn sighed. Good old Kelli was back.


End file.
